


My Lord

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [53]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Escort, F/M, Kinks, Molly as a prosititue, Sherlock as the client, Smut, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 02:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Molly is an escort. One day, Irene presents her with a rather unusual request of a new client - who specifically wants her:"I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to be kissed. I don’t want to talk. Not one word. Everything should be agreed upon before the appointment, in writing.Ideally, you’ll be bound, wear a blindfold and headphones. I need you to be lubed. No foreplay.I will accept three armed, male guards. No females. Not in the room. Video monitoring is acceptable without recording. Hotel of your choosing acceptable.GBP 3,000 extra for bareback penetration and ejaculation inside the vagina. I will provide a STD test. You will provide information on hormone levels one hour before the appointment."





	1. Lord of the Storm

> _I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to be kissed. I don’t want to talk. Not one word. Everything should be agreed upon before the appointment, in writing.  
>   
>  Ideally, you’ll be bound, wear a blindfold and headphones. I need you to be lubed. No foreplay._
> 
> _I will accept three armed, male guards. No females. Not in the room. Video monitoring is acceptable without recording. Hotel of your choosing acceptable._
> 
> _GBP 3,000 extra for bareback penetration and ejaculation inside the vagina. I will provide a STD test. You will provide information on hormone levels one hour before the appointment._

 

Molly frowned and re-read the e-mail three times before she looked up.

„Isn’t this more up your alley?“ she asked the woman sitting behind the big mahogany desk. The thin red lips smiled at her.   
„I offered, but he declined. It’s you or no one, he said.“  
„So you talked to him on the phone?“  
The piercing blue eyes sparked. Irene knew Molly was interested.   
„Yes.“  
„But I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him.“  
„No.“  
Molly re-read the e-mail once more. It was clear, it was on point. He knew exactly what he wanted. And yet, something about all of this…  
„Sounds risky.“  
„I will provide the guards. Malcom and Theo have already agreed. Malcom said he’ll cut his dick off should he try anything. He’s become very protective of you. You’re not fucking, are you?“  
„What? No!“  
Irene smirked, knowing very well that Molly is a firm stickler to rules.   
„Just checking. So, what do you say?“  
Molly looked at the e-mail once again.    
„…I don’t know. It’s strange. I don’t understand why he insists on it being me when he clearly doesn’t care about the person. He just wants a body.“  
Once or twice, she’s played dead before. A weird, yet kind of thrilling experience. This felt like it would be up somewhere in the sphere of this particular kink.   
„He wants  _your_  body“, Irene purred.

Molly shivered. Then she re-read the words, tried to imagine the man who’s written them.

„He sounds…“, she started, searching for the right word.

„Desperate?“ Irene offered.   
„…hopeless“, Molly finished. „He doesn’t really expect his proposal to be accepted, does he? That’s why he wants me, the ‘good little girl’.“  
That’s what Irene had written under her online profile pic. Molly never liked it, had pointed it out several times, always being ignored or waved off.

  
'Men like good little girls, like to make them naughty and filthy. And you, love, are both’, Irene had insisted.   
  
Since Molly had gotten many good clients, she shouldn’t complain.   
„I agree. He has this dream of having someone all to himself and is afraid of it being fulfilled. Maybe he’s afraid it won’t be as good as he hopes.“  
„…Or maybe he’s afraid of losing control“, Molly pointed out.   
„That’s what the guards are for, darling.“  
The brown-eyed pathologist chewed on her bottom lip. This whole scenario sounded dangerous. Molly had never let any of her clients tie her up. To be completely deprived of every sense, to only be able to feel…she would be giving up a lot of control.

Fuck, it was a fascinating fantasy.

She understood that someone would want this.

„If you can get Henry as the third guard, I’ll do it.“   
Henry’s been in MI5. She felt safe with Henry.

„Knew you’d do it“, Irene smirked triumphantly. „I’ll let him know and administer further communication.“  
„Just give him my number, I’ll handle it from here.“  
„He’s already declined that. He only wants to talk to me.“  
„Do you know this guy?“  
„No. He just really doesn’t want know you. He just wants to fuck you, love.“  
Molly huffed.   
„He sounds lovely“, she snapped and left the agency, trusting Irene to arrange everything.

  
Almost three weeks later, Molly stepped through the door of the presidential suite of the Five Star Crystal Palace Hotel and had to fight very hard for her jaw not to fall off and hit the floor. It was the entire top floor of the building, with a full-length window front. The lounge alone was massive, half her flat would fit in here. 

Malcom was lounging on the couch with phone in hand and gave her a smile and a wave as he saw her entering with Henry behind her. She smiled back. As soon as she reached him, Malcom stood up and leaned in.   
„You sure?“ he whispered.   
Molly nodded.   
„Where is he?“ she whispered back.

  
No talk, the client had said.   
  
Malcom nodded to the second door on the left.   
„In there with Theo, making sure nothing gets recorded.“  
Molly nodded. Then she couldn’t help herself.  
„How is he?“  
Malcom’s grey eyes darted up to Henry.   
„Pretty. You’ll like him, no doubt.“  
Molly tilted her head to the side.   
„So he’s a complete arsehole.“  
The bodyguard cleared his throat, but nodded.   
„Nearlly killed him twice so far.“  
Molly giggled.   
„But you’re safe with us, Molls.“  
„I know.“  
They shared a smile when the door opened. Instantly, Molly’s eyes flew to the crimson carpet.

  
No eye contact had been another request.  
  
Whether or not she liked it, she was damn good at this job.

  
There were footsteps that paused for a moment, then they crossed the room. A door was opened and closed.

Molly let out a breath, then looked up to greet Theo. The three large, muscled men were looking down at her.   
„You want out?“ Henry, who normally rarely spoke, asked her.   
„I’m fine. Just a little nervous.“  
„Men have weird fantasies“, Henry agreed.   
„Not just men“, Molly couldn’t help but smirk, then took a deep breath and nodded.

„Bathroom is through there. We’ll be in the second bedroom with the door open, watching the entire time. Theo checked the bedroom for any weapons and hasn’t left his side since. Make this handsignal if you want out.“  
He gave her the finger. Molly couldn’t help but laugh.   
„Easy enough.“  
„Thought you’d like it“, Malcom joked. „The cuffs for your wrists and thighs are in the bathroom, as well as lube, in case you forgot.“

She only gave him a look…and the finger.   
The three men snorted.

„Practicing my handsignal“, Molly teased, then nodded again and finally went into the bathroom.

It was massive, as well. A giant shower, a free-standing tub, two sinks, long mirror.

With any other client she would suggest to fuck in the shower, Molly pressed against the clear glass so she could watch herself.

But…

  
Well, better get this over with.

 

Quickly now, Molly undressed and washed her armpits and her crotch. Then she put on the cuffs. She looked at herself in the mirror, stared at the white leather around her wrists and mid-thighs. They looked and felt new, but the material was soft against her skin.   
He would hook her thighs to the backrest of the bed so her legs would be out of the way.   
  
He wanted as little body contact as possible, yet he insisted on penetration without a condom.

  
The guy was a mystery.

  
Taking another deep breath, Molly twisted her long brown hair up into a lose bun so it wouldn’t be in the way. Finally, she reached for the lube, closed her eyes as she spread it, played briefly with her clit and slowly fucked the lube into her, enjoying the slick sounds and the feel of it.

Her heart started beating a little faster and a tingle went through her skin, the one she always got when she was about to sleep with a client. The small rosewood nipples hardened.   
  
That’s why she worked as a whore on the side, she reminded herself. She loved sex and all the nuances and kinks it came with.   
  
This, this was just another kink. Something rare, something new and exciting. She would stop worrying now and start focusing on her own pleasure. Surely there would be something to gain from this. The unknown was a thrill, the mystery of the man was, too. She would be watched, which was also kind of hot if she forgot that this was for her safety.

 

As Molly washed her hands she started putting a scene together.

He was a foreign prince – oh, what the heck -  _king_  and she was an embassy employer. The interpreter had called in sick at last minute, so they couldn’t communicate with words. He was an odd fellow, never smiled, reserved, cold even. But there was an air of dominance around him that had made her wet as soon as she laid eyes on him. She was willing, and his eyes had told her he knew. They had dinner downstairs in the restaurant and with only one look he had told her to follow him up to his luxurious suite. Now she was here, ready to face the unknown, ready to get fucked by the silent king of a forgotten European kingdom.   
MI5 would watch and record this, in case he became a threat to the British Empire.

 

She was ready.

 

Stepping out the door, she went straight to the bed. Her bare feet were walking on black, cool tiles. The bed was enormous, her three bodyguards could easily fit in here with both of them together.

Ooh, the thought was exciting.

Out of the corners of her eyes he saw the client stand by the full-length window front, his back to her, staring at the London skyline as she climbed into bed. The luxurious white sheets were incredibly soft. Ignoring the white bonds tied to the bed, Molly reached for the white blindfold  and the headphones on the nightstand, lay down on her back, careful to position herself were the bonds for her thighs were, and put the blindfold on and then put the headphones in her ears.

For several fast heartbeats, nothing. Molly’s world was dark now and her pulse accelerated. She lay with her arms stretched out, listening. Her ears were focusing the spot where she knew he was still standing, still dressed in black pants and a white shirt from what she had seen out of the corners of her eyes.

 

A scratching, metallic sound, dulled by the headphones.  
  
The client had shut the drapes. She couldn’t hear his footsteps.

Her pulse accelerated once more.

Then the cord of the headphones moved. It got plugged in. A few seonds later, music. Classical. He increased the volume until it was all she could hear. With a nod she signaled this and he stopped, either trusting her, or having tested it beforehand. Molly prefered the to think the first.

 

When he lifted and moved her arm – his hand only touching the hook on the wrist cuff – Molly’s heart skipped a beat and she tried to focus on the music. It was beautiful. A river appeared behind her blindfolded eyes, in the middle of a forest.

The hook on her wrist was clicked into another hook, binding her.

Molly made a fist and bit her bottom lip.

The music, she told herself.

There was summer in this melody, life, rabbits and deer jumping through the forest, a cooling breeze in the warm air.

The second cuff got hooked.

Instinctively, Molly pulled at her bonds, testing them. They were secure.

The melody surged her up into the clear blue sky. She was a falcon now, free, flying through the air, the wind in her impressive wings.

The mattress to her left yielded.

A tug on her thigh-cuff.

Molly lifted her legs, pulled them to her body. First, the right thigh. She couldn’t hear the click of the hooks, but she felt it in her bones.

 

A whiff of his scent.

Crisp, clean, like ocean air.

A hint of tobacco ruined the pleasant smell.

The left leg was tied up seconds later.

Now that she was suspended, she fell back to Earth, the music dropping. Gone were the piano and the happy violin. Now there were celli, heavy, darker. There were clouds in the air now, gathering quickly. The wind picked up, shaking the leaves of the thick crowns of the trees.

 

A storm was coming.  
  


The mattress yielded once more, moved. Slowly, a pillow was pushed under her arse. She lifted it to make it easier for him.

She could feel his presence now, like she could feel the storm in the air of her imagination.

Molly tried to return to the king and embassador fantasy, but the music made it impossible. She was in the forest, at the edge of a clearing where she could see the sky turn grey, then almost black. The wind tore at the trees, the long grass and her hair.

 

Warmth against the skin of her thighs.

 

Suddenly he was there with her, standing in the middle of the clearing, a dark, faceless figure dressed in black and white, the black curls she had glimpsed dancing in the wind.

 

The Lord of the Storm.

  
He was staring at her.

Calling her.

The yearning sounds of a violin in the mids of the celli. Suddenly she was with him, in front of him.

In the eye of the storm.

Naked.

Drums.

Thunder around them as he lay her down in the grass.

Molly gasped and pulled her thighs to her body, stretched her legs out, high into the air.

Offering herself to the Lord of the Storm.

 

Heat on her wet pussy lips.

Molly trembled.

She was in the clearing with a god and in a hotel room with a stranger. Her mind was betraying her, one moment she could feel the soft cotton beneath her, then she felt the cool wind of the summer storm rush over her front.

The music drove her to unknown spheres, she drowned in it and the fantasies it created.

 

When he entered her, oh so fucking slowly, she moaned.

 

He was big, her Lord, and long. Stretching her wide open, pushing deeper and deeper.

She was wet and hot for him, not just from the lube, welcomed him with a firm squeeze of her trained muscles.

His cock was throbbing, hot, firm, and she loved the feel of him. He held still and with a little smile of her parted lips she massaged him, teased him…pleased the Lord of the Storm.

There was so much thunder around them now, droning in her ears. He loomed over her, his pale skin alight with lightning, his dark curls whipping across his face, hiding away most of it.

But she didn’t mind. She knew he was real from the weight of his cock inside of her, so hot, so big.

Molly moaned and arched her back, clenching her muscles as hard as she could.

Her Lord began to move. Slowly he fucked her, almost gently, while the crescendo of the music tore at her ears and brain. He was an anchor in the mids of this violent storm, he kept her safe while the world around her drowned in chaos.

He was the eye of the storm and she clung to him desperately, all her senses focused on that hot, heavy cock fucking her, the rhythm almost soothing, comforting.

Never did she feel a cock so intensely. Deprived of sight and hearing, not smelling him, not feeling his warmth, his skin on hers, the heat and steely hardness of him was all she had. It became the centre of her world and fuck, it felt so fucking scary and fantastic at the same time.

She couldn’t hear but she knew she was panting, the hot air passing her dry, parted lips. Her skin tingled, desperate for a touch, her breasts were aching, her nipples hard and begging for a kiss, a lick, a hot mouth sucking.

The melody droning in her head was climbing, climbing towards it climax, and bloody hell, so was she.

Molly arched and gasped, clenched her muscles and the Lord of the Storm answered her silent prayer and fucked her harder, deeper.

She could feel the heat of his body against her thighs and just then did the clothes disappear from her Lord.

He was naked, too.

The ground beneath her shook, no, the mattress, and then instead of the merciless winds she felt his warmth as he started pounding her.

Their hips started slapping together, she could feel his skin. He was so hot. The hair on his thighs scratched hers.

 

It was exhilarating.

 

Suddenly the two worlds became one and he was both, the Lord and the client. He was in the clearing with her, saw what she saw, felt the winds and the grass and heard the thunder droning.

His hot, large hand curled around her thigh. The touch was like a lightning strike, so intense after being deprived of contact for what felt like aeons.

That’s when she came, sudden and hard and forever, trying to remain quiet, a few squeals and whimpers slipping passed her tightly pressed-together lips, anyway.

Her Lord was thrusting hard now, fucking his lightning into her, setting her entire body aflame, in and out, until she felt nothing and everything at once.

Molly was lost, gone to a place she could hardly ever visit, and she never wanted to return.

His hard thrusts prolongued her stay, feeling so fucking good, until he slammed his cock into her all the way, his hips pressed against hers demandingly.

Fuck, she felt him ejaculate, felt his big cock erupt so fucking deep inside her, filling her up. The grip on her thigh was brutal, but the crushing pressure only added to her pleasure. 

And then, the storm stopped.

From one moment to the other, Molly was catapulted back to reality.

Instead of celli and drums and violins she heard her breathing.

…And his.

 

He was panting, letting out a soft moan that sent a shiver down her spine as he pushed into her one last time, spending his last drop.

A moment of stillness.

A moment where she, Molly, the whore, felt him, the man, the client. Only him.

For one fleeting second, tenderness.

Tenderness in his now gentle hold on her thigh.

Tenderness in his cock being inside of her, all spent, still pulsing.

That’s when she made a mistake.

She clenched her muscles, not to entice but to comfort.

The air around her turned to ice, the man inside her turned to stone.

He let go of her and pulled out in one, swift movement and climbed off the bed.

Almost hastily she was freed from her bonds and as she flexed the muscles in her arms and legs, she heard a door being opened and closed, then another.

 

Molly let out a sigh and pulled the blindfold off her eyes and threw it across the room.

She freed her wrists and thighs from the cuffs and threw them off the bed, as well. Last came the headphones. The device he had played the music with was already missing. She hadn’t even noticed how he unplugged it in his haste.

Molly stared up at the cream ceiling, the room lying in semi-darkness due to the almost shut drapes, trying to process this experience. Every inch of skin was still tingling. Unfortunately, the post-coital relaxation was gone due to the clients sudden exit.

…which was her fault, she guessed. She had known he wasn’t looking for tenderness. The feeling had just come to her unbidden, and she had wanted to share it with him.

Stupid.

 

…What had he wanted out of this? If he had just wanted to fuck and come into a vagina, then what had the music been for?

This hadn’t been a randomly chosen song. He had known this piece, by heart from the way he had acted, fucking her along with the melody.

She’d never been fucked like this.

This classical piece would probably haunt her for a very long while.

Damn him.

 

When she finally got out of bed and went into the bathroom to clean up, she noticed that his grip around her thigh had bruised her.

A large red and blue shadow of his palm and fingers. The police could probably identify him with this handprint on her skin.

She wouldn’t be able to take up another client for weeks.  

 

What an arsehole.


	2. Lord of Sin

“Guess who wants you again”, Irene greeted her with a red-lipped smile after Molly sat down across from her. The glint in her blue eyes could either mean Molly would be pleased or displeased. Irene Adler wasn’t easy to read. The only thing she knew was that Irene would enjoy their conversation.   
To speed things up, Molly played along and pondered.   
“Oh, Rick with the big Dick?”   
All the girls enjoyed Rick. He was charming, handsome and so very well endowed. A night with him was always fun.   
“No.”  
“Hm…Ron with the clever tongue?”  
Irene rolled her eyes.   
“I don’t like it that you girls invent these nicknames. It’s unprofessional.”  
Molly only giggled.   
“Since you obviously will never guess”, Irene finally said, “I give you a hint. He made you come.”  
Well, that narrowed it down, admittedly. Molly enjoyed most of her appointments, but not many men got her to climax. Which was okay, since it was about them, not her, after all.   
As Molly was going through the list, Irene’s smile turned sly. There was a spark in her eyes and then there was music playing in her head.   
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
Irene chuckled.   
“He stormed out! He didn’t leave a review on my profile.”  
“But he paid. And now he wants to pay again. More. Much more. Darling, your rent will be covered for a few months.”  
Instantly, doubt rose in her and she frowned.   
“What does he want to do to me?”  
Irene had just been waiting for this question, Molly gathered when Irene opened the black leather folder in front of her and handed her a sheet of paper.   
His e-mail.

> **The same conditions as last time. You will be bound, there will be other women. They will touch you. You will be drugged (salvinorin A, see link). This is all the information you are given. I need your reactions to be genuine. Your employer knows the details of the scenario. The security staff will, as well. I will pay for any medical professional you deem necessary. I will pay for bareback penetration and ejaculation.  
>   
> **
> 
> **I won’t be disrespectful again.**

Molly snorted at the last sentence and Irene smiled knowingly.   
“At least he knows he did something wrong”, she offered.   
The pathologist whore only huffed.   
“So you know what he wants?”  
“Yes.”  
“Is it dangerous?”  
“I don’t think so. The girls will be ours, of course. But don’t bother asking them for details, I’ll tell them when they arrive at the location, not sooner.”  
“He ‘needs’ my reactions to be genuine. That man has a problem.”  
“Most of them do, little doe.”  
“Hm…Salvinorin A…that’s a hallucinogenic drug…I believe it was used in spiritual rituals…”  
“According the info he provided, yes. No lasting effects.”  
“Still, I don’t like it.”  
“I understand. It is a leap of faith and trust, which he doesn’t really deserve. But last time he followed the agreement to the letter. He was rude, yes, but he was a good client. You liked him.”  
“He bruised me. I couldn’t work for three weeks.”  
“You bruise easily, love. I already told him that it mustn’t be repeated or he will have to pay extra for the work you’ll miss.”  
“You told him?!” Molly groaned, shaking her head.   
“What’s the problem?”  
She opened her mouth, but her brain couldn’t come up with a reason why it bothered her that the mystery man of rudeness (her Lord of the Storm, she thought involuntarily and there was a longing twitch between her legs), but it did bother her that he knew that he left something on her body that reminded her of this encounter.   
In the end, Molly simply shrugged and re-read the e-mail.   
“How much?” Molly asked after a pause, memories of his hand around her thigh and his thrusting cock dancing around in her head.   
When Irene told her the offered sum, Molly’s gasped.   
“That is ridiculous.”  
“That’s the total amount, darling. You’ll get 45%, 65% if you agree to only one security guy.”  
“Holy moly…”, Molly muttered, thinking of all the things she could buy. There was this flat she had her eye on. This in combination with the amount she had saved was enough for the deposit…  
“Damn it”, she cursed in the end.   
With a smirk, Irene looked at the computer screen, moved the mouse and left-clicked.   
Molly rolled her eyes at Irene’s theatrical way of closing the deal, telling the client that she’ll do it.   
“I think you’ll love it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”  
“I don’t doubt that, Irene. I just don’t like this bloke.”  
“Yes, you do.”

  
  
**~oOo~**

  
  
Molly’s heart was thumping in her throat as she exited the car Irene had sent for her. They were in front of a restaurant, one house in a row of many, white, elegant front. Henry was waiting for her and gave her a little smile.   
“Do you know anything?” Molly didn’t hesitate to ask.   
“Not yet. Irene knew you’d try to snoop. I’ll be briefed once you’re in the changing room. Don’t worry, Molly. I’ve got you.”  
“I know, Henry.”   
Molly smiled at him and walked after him, entering the building. There was a vacated recepetion, through an arch and thick red velvet curtains she could spy the dining room, but it was dark. Henry turned right, through a door that said 'Staff’. And then they went down a set of stairs. Through a door. And a nother set. Another door, this time black and heavy. 'Wine Cellar’ it read on the golden plaque on it.   
  
The ceilings were low and vaulted, naked red bricks as well as the walls. The air was thin, stuffy, old. The corridor was narrow, Henry barely fit in here, hunched over, guiding her right at the end of the hallways. Of course Molly looked left then. Black curtains blocked her few, but she could see candle light dancing on the floor beneath them.   
  
Molly’s breath hiked when she entered the room Henry opened for her.   
Seven figures, dressed in black, hooded cloaks. Along the walls of the round, small room, in front of half-finished or broken kegs. The air had a heavily wooden smell to it.   
In the middle, there was a copper tub, filled with…damn, with milk. Rose petals were swimming on the surface. The room was illuminated only by three big, black candelabras, their six arms decorated with elegant swirls and leaves. The candles were white, shedding a warm light, a few of them smoking.   
  
“Everything is monitored”, Henry whispered into her ear, which made her jump, “I’ll have my eye on you at all times. You’re safe, Molly. Just enjoy.”  
Unable to answer, her throat dry, she nodded. Henry left then, and as soon as the door fell close, the two hooded figures closest to her moved in her direction.   
Molly took a step back, the instinct to flee overwhelming. They moved like shadows, ghosts, like fucking Nazgûls. Her chest was heaving and for a moment she thought she might panic.   
Then they reached her and two pairs of slender hands reached out, fingernails painted red.   
Women. Irene’s women. Her co-workers.  
Molly let out a breath.   
As one woman stepped in front of her and the other behind, a slight giggle came from behind her ear.   
“You looked like a doe in the headlights.”  
  
 _Joslyn. Thank goodness.  
_  
“Sh”, came the hiss from her front and Molly peeked under the hood, finding crimson full lips turned down.   
  
 _Katey.  
_  
Molly let out a breath, relaxing. While Katey unbottoned her long black coat, Joslyn destroyed her updo, holding up her hair until Katey had removed her coat from her shoulders. Fast and efficiently they stripped her naked. Molly didn’t mind, feeling safe with Irene’s girls.   
Maybe Joslyn had ruined the client’s intention with her comment, Molly thought as the women took one of her hands each and guided her to the tub. Maybe he had wanted her frightened. If it was any other client, Molly would pretend to be, but for that rude idiot - hell no.  
A little stepstool stood in front of tub so she could climb in easily.  She’d never bathed in milk before. It was warm and felt incredibly smooth when she carefully stepped in, one waxed leg after the other. After she had sat down, she could smell the rose petals and…honey, she thought.   
A milk and honey bath.  
  
Maybe she could forgive the Lord of the Storm.   
  
That thought quickly left her head when the whispers began. Her heartbeat accelerated its rhythm once again. The other five women set in motion, closing in on her, around the tub, whispering words she didn’t understand.   
 _Latin?_  
Yes. The few words she could identify were definitely latin.   
She gulped, her ears focussing hard to make out what they were saying, never able to catch it all since they didn’t speak the same words. But they repeated it over and over, an almost angry hiss filling the small room.    
  
 _  
Dei.  
  
Peccatum.   
_ _  
Anguis._

_Tenebris.  
  
…Satanas.  
  
_  
A cold shiver ran down her spine, despite the warmth of the milk. Hands were on her body now, stroking her, washing her hair. They made her stand afterwards and stroke her again. 14 hands, everywhere on her skin, her back, her breasts, teasing the nipples until they were hard, her belly, her arse, between her legs, curious fingers dipping between the bald folds into her. Hands on her thighs, the hollows of her knees. Around her throat, slightly squeezing. All the while hissing those words, chanting prayers…but not to the One they should.   
  
 _The vaulted rooms, the hooded figures, the Latin, Satanas…  
  
Fuck. _  
  
 _This was going to be some sort of Black Mass, wasn’t it?!  
  
_ She shuddered, her throat seemed to close up. For a second, she couldn’t breathe.   
Lust began to pulse through her veins.   
She closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. The whispered words were swirling around her head, she saw naked witches dance around a bonfire, saw a woman tied to an altar, a silver cup on her stomach. Saw a woman getting fucked by countless cocks…  
…She had definitely watched too many movies…  
  
The stroking hands on her body were removed, which made her open her eyes. She swayed and was instantly steadied by one of the women behind her.   
The room seemed darker.   
The cloaks of the seven women seemed blacker.   
Their lips were red.   
As they helped her out of the tub, Molly heard them snicker and whisper, but their lips didn’t move.   
Molly swayed again. A soft hand steadied her. Two soft towels were dragged across her front and back. One woman squeezed out and toweled her hair.   
The scents of milk, honey, rose, old wood and burning candles attacked her nostrils, filling her head. It was too much to be pleasant and she huffed out several breaths through her nose, to no avail. The mixture was overwhelming.   
  
Her head started to hurt.   
  
Just as she pressed a hand to her head and swayed again, hands steadied her anew, one curled around her wrist and pulled it away from her head. Molly blinked, feeling odd. The entirety of her skin was tingling now. She felt wet even though she had been dried, saw that her skin was dry.   
Someone lifted her hair and that made the ground beneath her shake again.   
A sudden weight on her shoulders. Soft. Warm. She looked down, her vision blurry.   
  
Red. 

She saw red.   
A…cloak. Around her shoulders. Red painted nails. Fingers closing a golden glasp.   
A hood draped over her head, making her feel hot almost instantly.   
Molly wanted to pull it back, not liking it, but a hand stopped her.   
  
 _Don’t like it.  
Don’t like it.   
_  
Did she say or think it?   
Fuck, she felt so odd. Her brain felt numb, slow.   
The stone beneath her bare feet was cold, but the rest of her was warm, so warm, too warm. She inhaled deeply, tried to cool her body from inside, tried to look around.   
Black hoods. Faces hiding in their shadows. Red lips. So many red mouth. Smiling. Not smiling. Grinning. Cold. Evil.   
Molly gasped.   
Her wrists were grabbed.   
Metal cuffs were clasped around them. Molly stared at them, eyes focused on the rings dangling from them. 

  
_Heavy._  
  
 _So heavy._  
  
With a pant, she let her arms fall.   
  
 _Too heavy._  
  
Hands on her shoulders, steadying her.   
  
Coldness around her ankles.   
  
  
 _Snap._  
  
 _Snap._  
  
  
What was that sound?  
The hands on her shoulders were pushing.   
Those hissed words surrounding her like a swarm of wasps.   
  
She walked.   
  
Her feet were heavy, were clanking with each step. 

_Odd._

_So odd._

_Cold and clanking._

Seven black shadows surrounding her, guiding her out of a room through a dark, narrow corridor. The scent of stone and honey and rose in her nose.   
They stopped. A voice. A touch. Light flashing in front of her eyes. A face. Eyes she knew but couldn’t name.   
Hands pushing her again.   
Walking. Clanking. Forever. Down. Deeper. Darker. No air. Whispers.   
Rustling. Pushing.   
Another vaulted room. Square. Stonewalls. Candelabras. Red candles. 

Red. 

Red light.

Red room. 

Red table. In the middle of the room.

Red lines on the floor. 

  
_  
Blood.  
  
The smell of blood. _

  
  
The black shadows passing her, hissing into her ear, snickering evily. Walking through the room, surrounding the red table in the middle.   
Hands pushing.   
Molly’s body tensed, resisted.   
  
Fear.   
  
The smell of blood.   
  
She was shoved forward. Two more shadows stepped forward. She wanted to struggle, but it all happened way to fast.   
They were strong, so strong. Her limbs felt so heavy.   
A mere whimper left her lips when they pushed her down onto the table, quick hands unclasping the cloak and unfolding it.   
Cold air breathed down her front, covering her skin in goose bumps. Her nipples hardened, it felt so intense that Molly almost missed how her arms were pulled above her head and her legs spread, falling to each side of the narrow table.   
  


_Snap  
_

_Snap  
_

_Snap  
_

_Snap_

 

So loud, so loud, droning out the evil whispers.  
  
Fear.   
  
She whimpered and tried to get up. Metallic screeching.   
She couldn’t move her arms, nor her legs.   
Again, she let out a whimper, her vision sharpening, her body pumping adrenalin through her veins.   
She looked up, around, at the hooded faces above her.   
Whispering lips, unmoving lips.   
A low, very low droning in her ears, her body, settling on her chest, weighing it down.   
She let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, tried to clear that bloody fog in her head that prevented her to think.   
The constant stream of cold air across her front made it impossible to focus. She felt cold, then hot again, her skin becoming sensitive, tingly.   
Her breasts were tingling, too. Her nipples were so hard, achingly hard.   
Between her legs she was hot, so hot, despite the cool air between her spread thighs.

All but one shadow disappeared from her view.   
The whispers synchronized as the remaining black shadow lifted a bowl and a brush with her red hands.   
Words filling her head as she watched the dark tip of the brush being dipped into the bowl, letting out a gasp when it emerged red.   
Blood red.   
The red lips above her started whispering as well.   
Hisses. Words. Whispers. String of words, foreign words. Dancing behind her eyes, slowly coming together, oh so slowy, mating, matching, taking meaning.   
  
  
 _In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas,                                      introibo ad altare Domini Inferi  
                     In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas,              introibo ad altare Domini Inferi  
In nomine magni dei nostri                                                  Satanas, introibo ad altare Domini Inferi  
In nomine magni dei                    nostri Satanas, introibo ad           altare Domini Inferi  
  
In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas, introibo ad altare Domini Inferi  
  
Satanas  
                                                                                Satanas  
                      Satanas  
                                                                        Satanas  
              Satanas  
  
_

Molly pulled on her chains and arched her back at the first push of the brush against her skin came.   
Warm. It was warm. 

Red and warm. 

_Blood._

_Blood._

Bloody lines drawn across her stomach, long lines, crossing each other, small strokes, long strokes here and there, across her belly button, into her pubic hair. The final act a slow circle around it all.   
And all the while those hisses and that low droning in her ears. Molly could barely breathe, her vision blurring and unblurring. A few times she thought she’d pass out, but mercy wouldn’t come to her. One second she felt heavy, so heavy, trapped inside her body, a second later she was flying, hovering, looking down upon herself, her naked, tied body - with the red symbols on her body.   
The brush was put aside, the bowl was lifted high up above her.   
And they chanted. 

Loudly. 

Louder. 

Louder. 

Molly’s heartbeat increased with the volume and by the time they nearly screamed, her chest was heaving.   
She tried to speak, to make them stop, to stop calling him.   
But they didn’t. They didn’t.   
She stared at the bowl hovering above her, cupped by two red, elegant hands, his name droning in her ears. 

  
  
_Satanas  
                                               Satanas  
            Satanas_   
  


“Satanas…”  
Suddenly the bowl was tipped.   
A red waterfall.

Red.

Down.

Down.

   
A thick, hot splash on her stomach.   
Molly screamed.   
Or was it just in her head?  
She couldn’t breathe. She pulled at her chains.   
Thick, hot liquid on her stomach. 

Blood. 

Thick, so thick. 

Blood. 

On her stomach. Running down her sides, underneath her. 

Between her legs. 

Between her lips, one thick, warm drop. 

Slowly, lazily, mockingly, teasingly. 

Climbing her clit. Kissing it. 

Warm, so warm. 

Hot, red lust. 

A moan from somewhere. Maybe her own lips. 

No. Never. 

It was blood. 

A drop of blood rolling down her clit, sneaking between her inner labia, aiming for…

Aiming for…

Molly’s entire body arched as she felt the hot drop of blood invade her cave. Like a snake it slithered into her innermost, soiling her. Molly tried to squeezed her legs shut and rolled her hips when she failed to do so, trying to get this evil out of her. 

  
That’s when he came.   
  
  
When she felt dirty and filthy, he came to her. Emerging from the darkness, rising in front of her. 

  
Horns. 

Skin burnt black from the fall from heaven. 

Eyes glistening like rubys. 

An evil grin exposing sharp black teeth.

_  
The Lord of Sin_

 

He growled, the fallen angel, a sound so dark and menacing, echoing within her body, freezing her.   
She whimpered and stared, his face so clear one second und unsharp another, dancing in front of her, far away one heartbeat, right in front of her in the next, his hot breath hitting her face, feeling like hellfire.   
The priestess next to her - no shadow - ripped her black cloak off her body, exposing her flesh to her master.   
The same red lines and symbols on painted on her stomach.   
An inverted pentagram.   
Molly whimpered.   
Six other cloaks fell, six other women bared their flesh, wearing the symbol of the Horned One proudly.   
Molly’s head snapped around, her eyes drawn to the satanic symbol, fleeing the true menace standing in front of the table.   
Another heartstopping growl, right above her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering in fear.   
Then, a sharp pain.   
Claws sinking into her flesh, scratching up her left thigh.   
She flinched. Her eyes snapped open.   
Eyes burning like fire. Evil. Soft. Hard. Yearning.   
A purr. A rumble entering her from below, where she was open and vulnerable, traveling up her body, filling it until she gasped.   
The blurry grimace was evil and tender at the same time. The dark horns glistened like obsidian.   
Heat between her legs. A big, hot hand on her belly, the tips of claws scratching her through the layer of blood.   
His burning eyes were fixed on her, only her.   
  
She was the one he wanted.   
She was the sacrifice.   
She was his bride.   
  
With a growl his hand moved up her front, his clawed fingers pressing the blood into her skin, spreading it, across her breast as he grabbed it, scratched it.   
He bit into her nipple. Or scratched it.   
Even though she watched she couldn’t tell. She was caught between this plane of existence and his, the dark abyss he was condemned to.   
As the Lord of Sin explored her body, marked her with the offered blood, the women sang and chanted. The words were droning in her ears, the meaning now completely lost on her.   
She was floating, floating, feeling his claws, his hot hand close around her throat. Before she could decide her body decided for her. It arched its back, tilted back her head and spread her thighs.   
A purr was her reward, ever soft, caressing her skin.   
Molly opened her mouth, her tongue darting out as if in a kiss. She wanted to feel his tongue against hers, wondered in her hazy state if it would be forked like a snake’s.   
  
A finger on the bottom of her lip.   
  
Closing her eyes she opened her mouth further, and the digit slipped inside, the tip pushing down on her red little tongue.   
Warm copper in her mouth.   
Molly closed her lips and sucked and licked, the taste of blood filling her mouth, throat; her head.   
It was all blood and fire now.   
The heat of his body clashed against her, chasing the coldness away. Now she felt like burning, being burnt by his black skin.   
While his finger was still in her mouth, his other hand roughly grabbed her thigh.   
A growl. The violent crash of lightning.   
Lord of the Storm.   
For a moment she was transported to the clearing, seeing the lightning dance across his pale skin as he took her, claimed her.   
 _  
My Lord…_  
  
Molly gasped, turned her face away.   
 _  
My Lord…_  
  
The claws around her thigh pierced her skin.   
With a growl, the Lord of Sin claimed her with a ruthless thrust.   
Fire sizzled across her skin and it trapped her fleeing mind in her body.   
His big, hot cock thrusted again. Again. Again.   
God, again.   
His big hand cupped her jaw, turned her face to him roughly, made her stare into his hellfire eyes as he took her; his bride.  
He fucked her hard but torturingly slow. Such a long pause between each thrust in which she felt him pulsate and burn inside her cave, felt him stretch her so good, so fucking good, so deep.   
He grinned at her with those black teeth, as if knowing exactly how much she loved him being inside her, how the lust was pumped through her veins with each violent push.   
With her eyes she begged him, maybe with words, too, to take her harder, faster, deeper.   
One hand closed around her throat, the other was pushed down onto the table next to her as he bent over. Then he granted her her wish, fucking her fast and hard, like the animal he was.   
And she, she was his slave; his slave of lust.   
Blood sticking to her skin, blood in her mouth, blood in her cunt, she was the human sacrifice for the Lord of Sin; the fallen angel.   
And she loved it.   
He felt good, so fucking good. So big, so strong, so hot, hitting her in all the right places.   
When his sharp teeth began to scratch and bite her bloody breasts she moaned shamelessly. She spread her thighs as far as she could, handing her body over to his dark needs, caught every hard thrust of his hips with her own until she was rolling her hips fast, taking him deeper.   
  
 _There, yes, right there!_  
  
A high-pitched scream when she came, her head spinning, her soul being pulled out of her body, sharp claws dragging it down, down, into the abyss, into the darkness and beyond, across lakes of fire and twisting, burning bodies until she saw him, in all his deviant glory, sitting on his throne of bones, a heavy chain in his hand, a chain that led to her, was hooked into a metal collar around her neck.   
Tight, so tight.   
  
He laughed and laughed as the metal shrunk, squeezed her throat until she could barely breathe. And then he pulled, his grin evil and diabolic and she fell to her knees before him…  
…where she belonged…  
…his bride…  
  
 _No air.  
  
No air!_  
  


Darkness

  
**~oOo~**   
  


A slippery warm feeling between her legs woke her. It took several tries to open her heavy eyelids.   
She moaned as her head was spinning and squeezed her eyes shut again, taking a deep breath.   
“You alright, Molly?”  
  
 _…Henry_  
  
Once again Molly tried to open her eyes, managing after several blinks.   
Indeed, Henry was standing in her line of sight, at a distance, looking at her intently.   
“A little dizziness is to be expected. Do you have any other symptoms, Molly?”  
A person in a white coat stepped right in front of her, bending down and brushing a soothing hand over her head.   
  
 _Meena._  
  
Her kind smile made her smile right back. It always did.   
“I’m fine. Exhausted. Shoulders and neck muscles are tense, but nothing a hot bath can’t cure.”  
She giggled.   
The soft something moving across her belly paused.   
  
There had been something soft moving across her belly.   
  
Molly’s eyes darted down. Her breasts were still sticky with red paint, but her belly was almost clean, her skin wet. A soft, yellow sea sponge was resting on her belly button. Long, elegant fingers were curled around it. A hand. A bare lower arm. A rolled up, black sleeve. Tight around the well-defined bicep. A broad shoulder. A long, slender neck.   
  
Molly gasped when she looked into the handsome, unusual face.   
She knew it was him even though she’d never looked straight at him before. But as she looked at him now, she saw the Lord of the Storm and the Lord of Sin flashing up in his features.   
 _  
The client.  
  
The client…  
_  
Molly tensed.   
In profile, she saw his jaw clench, saw his chest rise and fall quickly underneath the black shirt. He blinked, looked down at his hand. The hand squeezed the sponge, warm water running over skin.   
The jaw clenched again, his upper body was tense.   
Then his eyes darted to hers.   
Only for a heartbeat, but it was enough to shake her to the core.   
  
 _His eyes.  
  
Good lord, his eyes. _  
  
“Seems you are alright, love. I’ll leave you to it, then. Henry will bring you to me once the session is over.”  
  
 _But it is over_ , Molly wanted to protest, but Meena’s smile stopped her. 

Quickly she and Henry left the room, the latter giving her a brief, reassuring smile.   
A fast look around confirmed that now she was alone with her client.   
The room had been set to rights already, candelabras and painting on the floor gone, which made her wonder how long she’d been out. Only now did she notice the many kegs lined up in several niches in the all four walls.   
The removal of the sponge snapped her attention back to the client.   
He dipped the sea sponge into a bowl on a small table next to the one she was currently lying on, the red cloak still beneath her.   
  
While he placed one hand on a cloth that lay on her thigh - why didn’t she feel that one? She must still be regaining her senses - he recommenced to wash the red paint off her body.    
  
Molly let him, simply because she didn’t know what else to do.   
  
As the memories of their second encounter surfaced behind her eyes, she watched his hand. He worked efficiently, but not ungentle. The sea sponge felt lovely on her skin, his movements were strangely calming.   
She needed to be calmed, she realized.   
What had happened…boy. It had been even more intense than last time. So much more. It had been quite a trip.   
  
The drug had worked superbly. She was still unsure where it had been. In the candle smoke? The bath water? 

Half of what she thought had happened most probably hadn’t happened. For example, there were no scratches on her skin. Maybe she had imagined the claws. The finger she had sucked didn’t have a claw…if that had happened.   
  
A part of her was dying to ask him what had been real and what not. Then again, not knowing made the experience ever more exciting. So even if she would have been allowed to speak - and since it seemed that the session was still in progress she guessed she wasn’t - Molly decided against it.   
  
So she leaned back, relaxed her body with an exhale of breath and closed her eyes.   
  
The discomfort in the air vanished after a few moments and then it was just the soft sponge sliding over her body.   
When the sponge reached her breasts, it slowed down. The movements became more gentle, careful. It was almost…sweet.   
  
She kept her eyes closed.  
  
After the disatrous outcome of the last time she felt this odd tenderness for the strange man, she thought it best to remain perfectly still until he told her otherwise.   
  
He didn’t.   
  
After he had finished washing her, he dried her with a fluffy towel, just as gentle, just as silent. And then he simply began gathering his things from the sounds of it.   
  
Molly risked opening her eyes. He had his back turned to her, his back muscles moving underneath his shirt as he work.   
That man had a liking for tight fitting shirts, apparently.   
  
Again, the tenderness bloomed in her chest. Somehow he looked lonely, despite being in her presence.   
  
What an odd creature he was. Odd, with fascinating sexual fantasies. She smiled at his back, just to make herself feel better, since she knew every attempt at trying to make contact with him would only displease him.   
  
It wasn’t what he wanted.   
  
So Molly climbed off the table, her legs aching, but steady. She spotted a bathrobe hanging on a hook on the door. Assuming that it’s meant for her she walked over and slipped into it.   
A moment where she looked over her shoulder. He had just folded up her red cloak and dropped it into a trunk closeby.   
  
No talking, she reminded herself and grabbed the door handle.   
  
And paused again.   
  
 _No talking!_  
  
Her heart skipped a beat.   
  
“Was it what you hoped for?”  
 _  
Which part of no fucking talking did you not understand?!_  
  
Molly bit her bottom lip. His movements had seized. She was still staring at her hand on the door handle, didn’t dare to look at him.   
  
No reply.   
Letting out a disappointed breath, she pulled the door open.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
She froze, the swinging door bumping against her arm.  
  
“And more”, he added after a moment.   
  
His voice, holy moly. Dark, rich, beautiful. Just like him.   
  
Molly smiled and blushed a little, ridiculously happy right now.   
She looked over her shoulder, not far enough to look directly at him, merely glance at him for a moment.  
  
“I’m glad.”  
  
He had his profile to her her. Out of the corners of her eyes he could see his jaw clench, then his bluegreen eyes darted to her for a second.   
  
A quick nod, then he turned away again. 

Molly left with a stupid grin on her face.


End file.
